


but you have to wager

by smartlike



Category: Ocean's (Movies), Ocean's Eleven (2001)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Movies, art heist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-26 14:36:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/967096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smartlike/pseuds/smartlike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eventually, someone's going to catch on. Rusty feels like he's running a con within a con these days and it's just a matter of time before he and Danny get found out. Rusty thinks he's should be more worried, but every time someone comes almost close enough to put it together, Danny saves the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	but you have to wager

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Take the House Ficathon (http://www.livejournal.com/community/takethehouse/) run by CherryIce.
> 
> Originally posted at http://www.obsessivetendencies.net/am/

Eventually, someone's going to catch on. Rusty feels like he's running a con within a con these days and it's just a matter of time before he and Danny get found out. Rusty thinks he's should be more worried, but every time someone comes almost close enough to put it together, Danny saves the day.

This time the door to Rusty's room opens and Basher walks in, hands full of Chinese take-out and rolled up blueprints, raving about how he never wanted to learn French just so he could communicate with some bloody git of an arms dealer and he isn't going to start now. Danny rolls quickly off the bed and ducks behind the bathroom door to slip his pants back on, and somehow, Basher doesn't even notice. Rusty just sits on the bed, probably flushed and definitely short of breath.

Rusty and Danny share a quick grin over the mooshu, Danny rolling his eyes and Rusty shrugging, but he knows you can't count on the stupidity of others to keep you safe for too long. This isn't the first time someone's caught them in an indelicate situation and eventually, someone has to catch on.

"Frankly," Danny says, looking over the schematics Basher leaves behind when he heads back to his room for the night, "I'm a little worried about who we're working with if they _can't_ figure us out."

Rusty nods a little and unbuttons his shirt. He slumps down on the floor by the foot of the bed and waits for Danny to join him. "Well, maintaining our impossibly mysterious allure is easier if they don't know how to think."

"But a bit of observational ability might be nice. Since we are counting on them to keep our mysteriously alluring asses out of prison and all." Danny sits beside Rusty and spreads the schematics over their laps. "I think here and here," Danny says pointing at the two spots Rusty has already identified as Danny's best entry points. 

"Back-up plan will be the southwest," Rusty says. He glances quickly at the paper on his legs, but it's the same as it was ten minutes ago and his assessment hasn't changed. "If we'd had a driver with some actual observation skills in Memphis, I never would have gotten the opportunity to be an Elvis impersonator, though."

Danny nods, runs his fingers across the western side of the building in the blueprint. "You did look fantastic in those sideburns."

"This is what I'm saying." Rusty flexes his knee a little, shaking the paper. "You know this cold, come on." Rusty waits for Danny to put the papers aside before kneeling with one leg on either side of Danny's. "You go in where?"

Danny smirks. "West entrance. You'll be inside still with Madame Jupe, Basher and Bobby'll have abandoned their tours and Phil's set up at security."

Rusty nods. "Very good." He leans forward and presses his lips to Danny's collarbone. It still surprises him, the way it tastes like metal and soap. He shifts his position slightly, pressing himself hard against Danny's thigh, snaking his hand forward until it hovers over the buttons of Danny's slacks. "And then?"

"And then, Bobby causes some commotion in that special not even remotely mysterious or alluring Bobby kind of way." Danny tips his head forward and talks into Rusty's hair as Rusty uses teeth and tongue to trace up Danny's neck and over his jaw. This probably makes speech difficult, but neither Rusty or Danny has ever enjoyed doing things the easy way.

"That lets Basher slip off the tour and into the men's room just before the aboriginal art section." Danny's thigh is tensed below Rusty's leg and it's easy to think that Rusty's in charge here, it would look that way if anyone else walked in, but Rusty's well aware that no matter how tense Danny is, his voice is smooth and amused, without even a slight shortness of breath. "Basher will climb through the ducts, wait twenty minutes until the museum closes and then drop into the room that houses Jupe Junior's ugly _objet d'art_. He'll set the explosives, Phil will disable all the alarms, I'll ent--"

Rusty cuts Danny off with a kiss and lets his hand drop, undoing and slipping inside Danny's pants quickly. Danny half-laughs, half-groans into Rusty's mouth and Rusty pulls back. "You know it cold." 

Rusty stands up and Danny's eyes narrow and dart to his open pants. "And you're too old to fuck on the floor." Rusty laughs and throws himself across the bed.

"I'm too old?" Danny asks, still amused and standing up quickly. "I'm barely thirty." Rusty shrugs, face blank. "You're only two years younger."

Rusty's face breaks into a smile. "Oh, fine. I'm too refined to fuck on the floor. Now come on," Rusty says, taking off his shirt. "I made sure the door's locked, this time."

*

Basher is waiting outside the door when Rusty opens it in the morning. Afternoon actually, but absolutely no one's counting.

"I'm not working with Bobby anymore." Basher's accent is thicker when he's angry.

Rusty wonders if Basher's been sitting there all night. And if he could hear anything if he was. "What'd he do this time?" 

Rusty wheels the room service cart into the room and Basher follows. If he notices that only one bed has been slept in, he doesn't say anything.

"This time, he stole my wallet, left me without the cash I needed to give the fucking French bloke, so now we're all going to suffer because I won't have all the equipment I need." Basher is pacing around the room and Rusty thinks twice about offering him coffee.

Rusty considers the problem as he spreads thick raspberry jam on his croissant. "If you had the money, could you still meet the French guy?" Rusty doesn't actually have any cash on him, but he can see Danny's wallet bulging on the dresser.

Basher shrugs. "Possible. You have it?" 

Rusty nods. "We do."

"I'll call him, then." Basher sits across from Rusty at the table and reaches for a banana. "But you've got to do something about Caldwell. He's driving me mad, mate."

The shower stops and Rusty contemplates letting Danny know that Basher's here, but at this point Rusty thinks he almost wants everyone to figure it out, a fact he doesn't let himself contemplate at all. A minute later, Danny comes into the room, drying himself off, the towel just barely covering him enough to be decent. He stops when he sees Basher and wraps the towel carefully around his waist.

"Morning, Basher." Danny raises an eyebrow at Rusty, but Rusty refuses to meet his eyes. "To what crisis do we owe your company over breakfast?"

Basher blinks, shoots a look at the steam pouring out of the bathroom and then at the carefully made bed on the far side of the room. Eventually has finally arrived, Rusty thinks.

Basher takes a bite of his banana and shrugs. "I need six hundred dollars. U.S." Danny tips his head, waiting. "Rusty said you had it. It's for the Frenchman."

Danny nods, heads to his wallet and pulls out the cash. He hands it to Basher. "Should I ask what happened to the money that was supposed to go to the French guy?"

Basher chews slowly and folds the money into his pocket. 

"Bobby," Rusty answers for him. "The children aren't playing well together, honey." It's what he would say if Basher didn't know, so Rusty says it even though it feels strange. "Can we get new ones?"

Danny squints. "Not this late. We're going in this evening." Danny rests his hand on his hip, fingers splayed over white cotton. "Basher, I know you're not Bobby's biggest fan, but if this job plays out right, Jupe'll get you back into the states."

Basher scowls. "Tossers at immigration think they know what the hell I'm--" 

Rusty met Basher in New York two years ago, Basher's first North American job and then Rusty lost track of Basher until they needed someone to do this job in Canada. Off hand, Phil mentioned that some English explosives expert was having visa issues and couldn't get back into the States. Rusty put two and two together and made a few calls.

Rusty holds up his hand. "We know. We agree. We'll fix it." Part of the deal to get him on the job for such a small score was help with the problem and a return to the U.S. of A. Basher nods. "Okay then, go make nice with the French guy."

Basher leaves, dropping the banana peel into the trash on the way out. At the door he turns back, glances at Danny, still dripping onto the thin hotel carpet and then raises his eyebrows at Rusty. Rusty makes a shooing motion with the croissant piece in his right hand and Basher shakes his head and leaves.

"By gosh, I think he finally got it," Danny says, letting the towel fall and reaching for his clothes. He doesn't seem worried about it, so Rusty decides not to be either. Danny dresses quickly and Rusty wonders if there'll be water marks on the pressed cotton of Danny's shirt. He doubts it.

"They really are growing up." Rusty hands Danny a cup of coffee and watches him sit down. There's a raspberry seed wedged between two teeth and he pushes at it with his tongue until it pops loose, leaving a bitter taste behind. "What are we going to do about Bobby, then?"

"Take six hundred dollars out of his share." Danny sips the coffee and looks at the table like he's thinking about eating something. "Other than that, we're doing this tonight; I don't think it matters."

"He'll be okay tonight?" Rusty finishes his croissant and wipes his fingers on a napkin.

"He will." Danny nods, drinks nearly all his coffee in one swallow. "He will."

Rusty stands. "I've gotta shower and meet the lovely widow." He pauses in the bathroom door. Rusty has spent two weeks making nice with a nearly insufferable French-Canadian heiress and he's never been quite so glad to be done with a job before. And that includes the time in Tampa with the tequila and the bad sushi. "She's taking me to tea with the curator."

Danny sets his cup down with a clatter. "Lucky her."

Rusty rolls his eyes and heads into the still-steamy shower.

*

Rusty touches his lips with his fingertips and glances at his watch. Ten minutes and he'll be on his way out. There's a car behind the northeast entrance, Quebec plates and some forged paperwork. If Rusty's really lucky, Bobby left a sandwich from that deli over on Centre Street. But, for nine and a quarter minutes, he has to keep making nice with the lovely widow Jupe.

"Now, Parker, dear, exactly what do you think of the Renoir?" Madame Jupe waves her hand at a painting on the opposite wall and the curator turns to look where she's pointing.

Rusty doesn't bother to look at the painting, just starts his answer, waiting for the interruption. "I've always felt--"

"Yes, Renoir is just so pedestrian, it's true." Madame Jupe shakes her head quickly and the curator frowns. Rusty carefully doesn't roll his eyes because Parker Hudson would never roll his eyes and for eight more minutes, Parker's the one in charge. "James, the museum can keep it. Consider it a permanent loan."

Rusty adjusts his tie and uncrosses his legs. "Zoe, I hate to dismiss a master and run, but I absolutely must be going. I have a previous engagement I just can't miss." Rusty doesn't stand until Madame Jupe stands and when he does, he's careful to frown just enough to indicate exactly how much 'Parker, dear' would like to miss the engagement.

Madame Jupe reaches for her silk wrap, but Rusty places a hand on her shoulder, just a little closer to her chest than is appropriate. She flushes and smiles brightly up at him. 

"No, no. Don't leave on my account. I know you need to sort out the collection." He presses his hand just a little more firmly and he can feel her bra strap under the thin dress. Rusty bites his lip and looks just a bit more pained than before. "It's what Monsieur would have wanted."

Her smile falters and she looks down at his hand. She doesn't move away, though and Rusty almost feels bad for her dead husband. "I suppose you are right, dear." She turns toward him and Rusty drops his hand slowly, settling it against his own thigh. "I will see you tomorrow at the opening, though?"

Rusty nods. "I wouldn't miss it for the world, Zoe. I can't wait to see what artistic treasures you put together for the world."

Two minutes now and Rusty shakes the curator's hand and lets Madame Jupe walk him to the door. He bends and drops a small kiss on her cheek. She smells like soap and Ovaltine. Rusty carefully doesn't lick his lips after moving away.

The door closes behind him and he removes the gum in his mouth, placing it neatly in the lock of the door. He moves down the hall and waves at the security camera above him. A count of ten and the alarms sound in all of the nearby collection rooms. Rusty pushes out the nearby door and into the warm evening air, leaving the door slightly ajar and walking casually to the blue sedan on the far side of the employee lot.

He wrinkles his nose at the car and flicks the Evergreen air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror. Cute. There is a sandwich after all and Rusty thinks maybe they should only take three hundred out of Bobby's share. 

Rusty slips off his jacket, tie, and button-down shirt; pushes his hair down over his forehead and brushes some lint off the t-shirt he has on. The rest is on Danny now and Rusty isn't worried, even though he has no idea if Basher worked things out or not. 

At the exit gate, Rusty's credentials are accepted with no question and less than an hour later, he pulls over on the highway outside of town to eat his dinner and wait for Danny's call.

*

After Rusty finishes the sandwich, he turns the car on and searches through the radio stations. There's not much he recognizes and it's almost all terrible, so he keeps flipping, snatches of sound filling the car and then fading into something else. Outside the sun is setting. Five minutes later, his phone rings.

"Everything's set; Bobby should be there in fifteen." Danny's voice is crisp and businesslike, but there's still that hint of laughter beneath. "Slight snag with the explosives, but Phil covered."

Rusty's finger hovers over the radio button considering the merits of what might be French rap music. "We need to work with Phil more."

"I'll make a note." Danny exhales slowly and Rusty can picture him back in their hotel room, feet up on the end of the bed. "You left the widow wanting more, I assume?"

Rusty scoffs. "I'm pretty sure she's always wanting more." Madame Jupe's stepson Jacques told them as much when he hired them to steal one of the ugliest sculptures Rusty had ever seen from his late father's collection which Madame Jupe was planning to auction after a brief exhibition at the Canadian national art museum. "She's going to get a pretty penny for those pieces. Some of them were actually nice."

"You wouldn't know it by the thing I took tonight. I can't imagine wanting that, let alone being willing to steal for it." Danny coughs and Rusty changes the station when the music transitions to something with accordions. "Ruben called, when we finish up here, he has something for us. Out of the country again."

"We can't go back to L.A. for six months anyway," Rusty shrugs and leans back against the vinyl seat. They should probably hang up, but he decides to let Danny make that decision. "Basher's all set with the clean-up?"

"I think he and the French guy came to some sort of understanding, even."

"Remarkable." There's a knock at the window and Rusty rolls it down to find Bobby, back-pack slung over his shoulder and baseball cap shoved on his head. "Danny, I should go. Looks like I'm picking up a hitchhiker."

"Hey man, can I get a ride? Just over the border?" Bobby rolls his eyes and doesn't wait for Rusty to nod before heading around to the passenger door.

"All right, but don't say I didn't warn you when the hitchhiker turns out to be a common criminal." Danny laughs a little at his own joke and then pauses. "Good luck."

Rusty watches Bobby settle into the seat next to him. "You too. Two weeks, usual spot?"

"Usual spot." Danny doesn't say goodbye, the line just goes dead and Rusty thumbs the phone off and drops it into the cup holder. "Bobby. You look young."

Bobby glares at him and pulls of the cap. "I look like my son." Rusty shakes his head and starts the car. Bobby's glare softens a little. "How's Danny?"

"Back at the hotel, just like the plan. He'll make the arrangements with Jupe and we'll ship from the U.S." Rusty pulls back onto the highway without looking over his shoulder. "You have the package?"

Bobby doesn't answer, not that Rusty expected him to; if he didn't have the package, he would never have shown up. Instead, he says, "When did you guys start the gay thing?" Bobby always was classy.

Rusty wonders idly if Basher told him or if Bobby just figured it out for himself. He honestly can't decide and he supposes it probably doesn't matter. He shrugs and looks over at Bobby for just a second before turning back to the road.

"I'm not surprised, just." Bobby waves his hand in the air a bit, baseball cap flopping against his wrist. "You're not worried about the game?"

Rusty isn't worried about the game because the thing with Danny, that's just another part of the game. He reaches forward and changes the radio station again, settling on an old Elvis song. "Never worry Caldwell, it only slows you down. Besides: eventually, someone always catches on."

Bobby doesn't seem impressed, but he doesn't say anything else either and they drive towards the border, occasionally reaching forward to change the radio.


End file.
